


Reflections

by jivvin



Category: Neverwinter Nights
Genre: Angst, Choices and Consequences, F/M, Friendship, Hordes of the Underdark - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, alternative universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jivvin/pseuds/jivvin
Summary: NwN:HotU. Two parallel journeys through the Underdark, led by two very different Heroes of Waterdeep, both seen through the eyes of Nathyrra and Valen. To help or to ignore? To kill or to spare? To fight or to flee? Two different people make different choices, and leave distinctive marks on their worlds - and their companions.
Relationships: Nathyrra & Valen, Nathyrra/m!Hero of Waterdeep, Valen/f!Hero of Waterdeep
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. Lith My’athar, the day of the Savior’s arrival

**Author's Note:**

> With all my love to the Hordes of the Underdark.

Nathyrra stood in the doorframe of the small dark room Valen has claimed as his quarters.

“I hear that our esteemed savior has asked you to accompany her to those strange isles tomorrow,” she said.

“What of it?” he replied, packing weapon maintenance supplies into a travel pack. “She’s asked you too, has she not?”

“She has. But I wasn’t the one declaring my vehement distrust of her mere minutes before. Don’t you find it curious?”

“Not at all. She has need of my skills, and I did offer my help.”

“But you still distrust her.”

Valen’s head shot up, cold blue eyes boring into hers. “Why don’t _you_ _?!_ ” he demanded. “What do we know of this woman?”

Nathyrra shrugged, holding his gaze. “Daedre is an adventurer of relative fame on the surface. A capable fighter and divine caster, and the god she worships seems to be a good-natured one.”

“I shall refrain from stating my opinion on the natures of gods, I’m sure you won’t find it to your taste.”

Nathyrra ignored the quip. “From what I’ve seen of her in the Undermountain, she seems to be an honest and good-natured person herself,” she went on. “The Seer believes--”

“I know well what the Seer believes!” Valen cut off, voice tight with barely controlled fury. “Do _you_ believe that a person forced to help us under a geas deserves our complete trust? A half-elf who, for all we know, might hold a grudge against all your kind, and think the death of any Drow as a good thing?”

Nathyrra suppressed a sigh. There was no point in continuing the conversation. Valen was completely unreachable when he got like this; pressing on would only succeed in agitating him further.

“Just… spend some time with her tomorrow, and see for yourself,” she said, one foot out the door. “If you’re so set on distrusting the Seer.”

“I do not--” he frowned, then clenched his teeth and let out a long, heavy breath through his nose. “Very well. I shall keep a very close eye on her, you can count on that.”

* * *

“He has need of my skills, and I did offer my help.”

“But you still distrust him.”

Valen’s head shot up, cold blue eyes boring into hers. “Why don’t _you_ _?!_ ” he demanded. “What do we know of this man?”

Nathyrra shrugged, holding his gaze. “Kade is an adventurer of relative fame on the surface. A warrior of utmost skill, maybe even enough to rival yours. He’s not inclined to worship any deity, which I’m sure you will find most sensible.”

“I shall refrain from stating my opinion on the nature of worship, I’m sure you won’t find it to your taste.”

Nathyrra ignored the quip. “From what I’ve seen of him in the Undermountain, he seems to be a straightforward and determined person, if a bit bloodthirsty,” she went on. “Not unlike yourself.”

“Yet unlike myself, he’s not here out of his own free will, is he? He’s all but strong-armed into helping us, do you truly believe a man as willful as he seems to be will simply take it in stride?”

“The geas will--”

“The geas is but a spell, and all spells can be broken. If it is broken tomorrow, would you stake your life on him finishing the job? What about the Seer’s life?”

“The Seer believes--”

“I know well what the Seer believes!” Valen cut her off again, voice tight with barely controlled fury. “I have seen many a life ruined because of misplaced beliefs, and I shan’t see the Seer’s be amongst them!”

Nathyrra’s gaze turned to ice. “Neither would I, and you know it,” she replied. “And don’t you dare interrupt me again, male.”

Not a muscle moved on Valen’s face. “I am no Drow,” he said, “and I shall interrupt whomever I please. And I shall keep an eye on this… savior of ours. If he truly is what the Seer believes him to be, he would have to prove it with his actions.”

Nathyrra turned to leave. “He will, have no doubt about that.”


	2. The Black River, sailing away from Shaori’s Fell

Nathyrra savoured the fresh cold air of the river as the boat sailed slowly but surely amongst the shadow-covered islands. 

“I never thought I’d have a chance to meet such creatures,” she sighed, recalling the uncanny beauty of the Avariel, her kind’s winged cousins. Even under such a terrible curse, their inherent brightness remained, some sort of inner light shining through. “For them, the vast openness of the Lost Peaks must seem as natural and welcome as the black ceiling of the Underdark is to me,” she mused. “It’s hard to even imagine.”

Valen leaned on the railing beside her, his gaze lost in the waters.

“I have heard tales of the Lost Peaks,” he said after a pause. “They say it is a place of great wonders... and great danger. Though I suppose the Avariel are quite happy to be back home safely.”

“Thanks to our new friend there,” Nathyrra smiled, nodding towards the boat’s cabin, where Daedre was going over her stock of medicinal equipment. “You have to admit she’s handled the situation quite well. We even got a powerful artifact out of it all.”

“And what does she intend to do with it, do you know? Such an amount of power…”

“I trust her to do the right thing. Seer’s visions aside, she has yet to show me any reason to doubt her judgement.”

“Indeed, she demonstrated a great amount of restraint in dealing with the more… difficult of those people. Saw humanity even in the most monstrous of them.”

“Like that priest, ugh,” Nathyrra grimaced. “Can't say I wasn't tempted to simply kill him and be done with it.”

“But we didn’t,” Valen said softly, staring into the waves. “She didn’t.”

* * *

“I have heard tales of the Lost Peaks,” he said after a pause. “They say it is a place of great wonders... and great danger. Though I suppose the Avariel are quite happy to be back home safely. What’s left of them, anyway.”

“Kade handled it as well as can be expected,” Nathyrra replied. “We even got a powerful artifact out of it all.”

“And what does he intend to do with it, do you know? Such an amount of power…”

“I trust him to do the right thing. Seer’s visions aside, he has yet to show me any reason to doubt his judgement.”

“Oh really?” Valen deadpanned. “Even when he killed the priest in cold blood?”

“A risky move, I agree, but it paid off. We’ve no time to play that crazed man’s games, and what did he expect, attacking us with a disease like that?”

“What about the murder of the medusa and her husband? That wizard boy who begged for his life?” he went on, and Nathyrra knew by now that the biting coldness of his tone hid a firestorm within.

“Valen, you’ve seen them!” she exclaimed. “They were all under a dangerous enchantment, you couldn’t really trust any of them.” There was a certain raw purity to the unnamed island’s Avariel, but it shone through a corrupted, darkened pane, darkening them by mere association.

“I know of another man under a dangerous enchantment I struggle to trust,” Valen said. “You, however, seem to have no such difficulties. It troubles me.”

She bristled. “What are you implying?”

He was silent for a long moment, staring at her with those inhuman eyes. “Nothing,” he replied after a while. “For now.”


	3. Lith My’athar, upon return from the Maker’s Island

They had less than an hour before their small party had to move out of Lith My’athar again, this time to the west, into the treacherous depths of the Underdark. As they waited for Kade to finish his dealings with Rizolvir, Nathyrra turned to Valen, a smirk playing on her lips.

“So, Valen... you have to admit that Kade has certainly proven himself so far, despite your reservations.”

“So far as his skill in battle is concerned, yes. It is not his competence I distrust however, but his moral character.”

Nathyrra looked away. “None of us here are saints, Valen,” she said softly, “the two of us perhaps even less so than others. I shall not demand purity of another when I struggle to find a clean spot in myself.”

“Purity? No, I’m talking about something much baser… Why did he sign with Aghaaz, for example? Why him over Ferron?”

“Aghaaz had a stronger position, with more golems at his disposal that he could send to our aid,” she replied after a small pause. “I admit that Ferron’s cause seemed nobler, but what is your true objection to Aghaaz? That he is created out of the flesh of devils makes him no more inherently evil than the demonic blood in your veins makes you.”

“Some would argue it does, for both of us.”

“Even so, it is no concern of ours,” Nathyrra shrugged. “Do you truly believe we could spare our limited time and resources to navigate the political squabbles of a bunch of constructs?”

Valen turned towards the furnace, where Kade was still engaged in a conversation with the blacksmith. Nathyrra followed his gaze, taking a moment to admire the black-clad figure of a man whose company she’s come to cherish.

“Was it expedience that guided his decisions, I wonder, or was it sloth?” Valen finally said, eyes still fixed on the other man. “Was he really looking out for the rebellion’s best interests, or for his own?”

There was something about his voice as he said it, some kind of emotion darkening an otherwise calmly-spoken phrase, that made Nathyrra regret starting the conversation in the first place. 

“For now, his interests and the rebellion’s are one and the same, if you remember. And as long as the geas is in place--”

“And what if it isn’t?” Valen asked, voice tight. “I asked him that question, you know. Believe it or not, I decided to make my apologies for doubting him, in light of his recent accomplishments.”

Nathyrra braced herself. “And what did he say?”

Valen turned to face her, eyes burning with cold hatred. “He threw them back in my face,” he said, spitting out each word as if it had a bitter taste. “He told me, in no uncertain terms, that the geas is the only thing tethering him to our side, and that the second it’s gone he’ll abandon us for the Valsharess!”

Nathyrra had to catch herself from exclaiming in indignation. “He would never say such a thing!” she said in a harsh whisper instead. “How dare you spin such lies about a man who has done nothing but help us this whole time?! A man who’s our only hope of defeating the Valsharess!”

“At what cost?” Valen hissed in return. “He is a wicked, cruel man, and he might well defeat the Valsharess, but there is nothing stopping him from walking over our corpses to reach her!”

Nathyrra’s hands clenched into fists as a hot flash of anger shot through her gut. Keeping her voice down was starting to prove a struggle. 

“That’s enough!” she snapped at him. “You resented Kade the minute he showed up, and you continue to make excuses for your resentment even after he proves himself time and again! Even the Seer’s words mean nothing to you!” Voice hoarse from the forceful whispering, she took a step towards him. “Just like your kind, you feed off hatred and strife, and can’t see worth in anyone but yourself!”

She regretted the phrase as soon as it left her lips. Valen’s ashen features turned to stone, his whole body going still but for the tail, that lashed from side to side, hitting his greaves with enough force to hurt. All at once, Nathyrra became painfully aware of how he towered over her, and how close to him she was standing.

“Were I ‘like my kind’,” he began slowly, the sounds barely escaping from between his clenched teeth, “my hands would’ve already been red with his blood, and it’s only the Seer’s words that stay them. But you, Nathyrra…” His voice dropped even lower then, dark and dangerous. “Does your fervent defence of Kade stems from your devotion to the Seer’s visions... or from him being a powerful, attractive male willing to entertain your domineering temper?”

The question stung, like a slap to the face. The months of service to Eilistraee made Nathyrra rethink and discard a lot of the aspects of Drow culture and society, but such brash impertinence from a male still threw her off-balance. The flame of righteous fury burned within her chest, yet she forced a semblance of calm over her emotions. If the brute could maintain a hold on himself, so could she.

“You lower yourself with such accusations, but you won’t lower me into refuting them for you,” she said in a clipped tone, and couldn’t resist twisting the dagger a little bit more. “Your hateful nature will become your undoing. Talk to the Seer, and try to find peace within you.”

Valen’s face didn’t change.

“I do not tolerate traitors, Nathyrra. I’m watching him…” he paused, “and you.”

* * *

They had less than an hour before their small party had to move out of Lith My’athar again, this time to the west, into the treacherous depths of the Underdark. As they waited for Daedre to finish her arrangements with the Seer, Nathyrra turned to Valen, a smirk playing on her lips.

“ _Somebody_ seems to be in a good mood.”

He cast a glance at her, then looked away, as if embarrassed.

“Why shouldn’t I be? We’ve secured several powerful allies, and the Shattered Mirror lies safely in the Seer’s hands; we’re doing well for ourselves, all things considered.”

“So you admit that Daedre has proven herself so far, despite your reservations?”

“She certainly did.” He glanced at her again, a spark of humour in his eyes. “What, you want me to say it? Fine. You were right, Nathyrra, and I was wrong.”

She lowered her head in a mock bow, then looked up at him again with a smile.

“What changed your mind?”

Valen was silent for a while. “The golems,” he said at last. “Choosing to support Ferron required more risk and more effort on our part, but it was the right thing to do. Our savior seems to be as honest and good-natured as you were trying to tell me, truly a remarkable woman.” 

There was something about his voice as he said it, some kind of emotion softening an otherwise evenly-spoken phrase. His tone lightened then, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ve already made my apologies to her, but maybe you wish me to extend them to you as well? I doubted you too, all for the wrong reasons.”

In the months of her service to Eilistraee, this was the most cheerful Nathyrra has ever seen him.

“No apology is necessary,” she said, but couldn’t resist pushing the always stern and serious man just a little bit more. “I wonder however, is it Daedre’s good nature that fascinates you so… or her good looks?”

A faint blush creeped up his ashen cheeks, and he looked away again, tail twitching slightly from side to side.

“Do not jest like that, Nathyrra. You know I’m not--” He cut himself off then, and sighed, all trace of good humour gone from his face. “Still…” he went on after a pause. “For the first time since I’ve got here, I feel like we might actually have a chance to win this war. To survive it, even. That’s enough for me.”


	4. The Underdark, departing from the Tyrant’s lair

“Somebody please remind me why we’ve decided that herding a whole pack of kobolds through the Underdark is a good idea,” Valen grumbled as another small reptilian barely escaped falling from the stone bridge they were crossing. The road back from the beholders’ tunnels was unexpectedly… lively.

“It’s either this or leaving them to fend for themselves in those corpse-laden tunnels,” Nathyrra sighed, gently prodding another kobold along the path. “I thought you were in favor of this decision.”

Valen grimaced. “I am. I just wish they weren’t… crawling all over.”

A few feet ahead of them, several more creatures clung to Daedre’s cloak and boots, nearly causing her to fall over.

“Imagine now,” Nathyrra smirked, “if they could talk as well. If they could _sing_. Every single one of them.”

Valen shuddered.

* * *

The road back from the beholders’ tunnels was long and quiet. Since their departure from Lith My’athar, Nathyrra hasn’t seen a scowl leave Valen’s face for even a moment.

“Brooding again?” she smirked, trying to cut through the tension between them. “What has Kade managed to do _this_ time?”

“Why, nothing at all,” Valen replied without looking at her, dull and monotone. “Brooding is simply a part of my hateful nature.”

Nathyrra suppressed a sigh and clenched her teeth. “Suit yourself,” she said, before moving away to catch up with Kade instead. 


	5. The Underdark, leaving Drearing’s Deep

“The girl didn’t have to die.”

The phrase was so quiet, for a moment there Nathyrra doubted if she hadn't imagined it. She raised her eyes from the dagger she’s been polishing, to see Valen sitting on the stone outcropping, staring into the campfire. The warm amber glow of the flames tore out his frame from the darkness of the cave; it warmed the tones of his skin and armor, amplified the scarlet of his hair, and only his eyes remained cold as ever, stark and alien in their dim glow. 

For some reason, Nathyrra noted, it felt nice that he was talking to her once more, even if only while Kade was on the lookout outside.

“The deva?” she asked carefully, unwilling to ruin the fragile truce he’s apparently extended to her. “I would hardly call her a girl, she’s probably older than both of us.”

“She was innocent, naive. She didn’t deserve the torture she’s gotten, and she didn’t deserve death.”

“It wasn’t for nothing, it--”

“It was cruel and senseless,” he shook his head. “Even were you to argue the usefulness of the bone golems as allies, don’t you think a celestial deva in our corner would be just as helpful?”

“Given her aforementioned innocence and naivete, I have my doubts. But I concede, her death was... excessive, as I’m sure Kade would agree,” she said, with more conviction than she really felt. “I can only conclude it was an accident.”

“That’s the _only_ thing you can conclude?”

“Of course, _you_ would insist he did it out of malice, wouldn’t you?” she brushed aside, annoyed.

Valen tore his gaze away from the flames then, and turned it to her - two faint blue stars in the ocean of amber.

“Pulling that lever _once_ could be called an accident,” he said, cold and hard. “Twice - a definite cruelty. If the girl hadn't expired after the third pull, how many times do you think he would’ve repeated the action?”

Nathyrra held his gaze. “As many times as necessary.”

“It was not necessary!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, as the logs in the fire cracked and shifted in a burst of sparks. “This is not the cause I joined! Expedience over morals, survival by any means - it’s as if I have never left the Abyss!” He shook his head again, and Nathyrra saw the sudden bout of passion bleed out of his form. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes returned to the flames; when he spoke again, there was a dull weariness to his voice. “I came here to regain my humanity, but I feel like I’m losing it with every step that I take following our ‘saviour’.”

In the close confines of the cave, half-illuminated and half-taken by darkness, he suddenly seemed far smaller than Nathyrra has ever seen him. Gone was the fearsome tiefling giant, the unshakeable general of the rebellion’s army, the Seer’s stalwart bodyguard. In front of the small campfire in the middle of the Underdark, there was only a man, tired and full of doubts, as human as it gets.

But the rebellion didn’t need a mere man, just like it didn’t need Nathyrra as a temple-serving penitent. It needed them on the frontlines, doing whatever they could to bring about the destruction of the Valsharess. That was all that mattered, and the thought brought Nathyrra neither comfort nor despair.

“I'd like to think I'm here for something more than selfish redemption,” she said after a long silence. “If my soul is to be lost to save the lives of the rebels, so be it.”

Valen didn’t respond. The fire continued to crackle and sputter, and Nathyrra returned to maintaining her dagger. When he eventually spoke up again, Valen’s voice barely rose over the ambient noise.

“What about the lives of those slaves?” he asked. “We've left their town no better than we found it, and there's no telling what their mysterious god will inflict upon them on finding half his priesthood destroyed.”

A deeply uncomfortable feeling rose in Nathyrra’s chest, but she crushed it before it had the chance to fully form. “Drearing’s Deep is one of hundreds of small settlements exactly like it,” she said, “nestling in the darkest holes all over the Underdark. They rise and fall, unnoticed and unremembered by most. I am no hero, and I can't save them all. Nor do I strive to.” She looked up from her blade to find Valen staring at her from across the flames. “And of their god - Vix'tra, was it? Even you would have to agree that fighting him at this time would be a foolish risk. The victory is closer than ever now, we can't afford losing Kade to such a tangential threat.”

Valen’s face remained completely blank.

“Do you love him?”

Nathyrra recoiled, as if from a strike. “That’s none of your concern,” she said hastily, perhaps too much so.

“Do you think _he_ loves you? Do you think he can?”

She threw a quick glance towards the entrance to the cave. Kade was just outside there, in the dark.

“What kind of question is that?” she muttered, hating herself for how uncertain she suddenly felt. “Of course. Of course he can.”

Valen’s gaze returned to the fire, and was soon lost in it once more.

“I hope you're right.”

* * *

“I hope to goddess you’re right, Valen, because otherwise…” Nathyrra sighed, pointing towards him with the dagger she’s been polishing. “If the time and resources we’ve lost on battling Vix’tra end up costing us the victory against the Valsharess… my ghost will be very angry with yours.”

Valen suppressed a smirk, and sat down on the stone outcropping near the campfire. The warm glow of the flames did wonders for his ashen complexion, and even his piercing blue eyes seemed a little bit softer in the amber light.

“I agree that the endeavor was risky,” he said, “but the spoils we’ve secured from the dracolich’s lair will help our troops well enough to compensate for some threats we may not have the time to neutralize now.” The smirk didn’t stay put down for long, finding its way back to his lips, and even to the corners of his eyes. “Just think of Imloth’s face when we present him with a dragonscale armor.”

“You’re really proud of yourself for supporting Daedre’s decision to go after the dracolich, aren’t you?”

Valen tried to school his features back into seriousness. “It’s just the lingering effects of the electric shock,” he said, a corner of his mouth twitching.

There was something borderline disturbing about seeing the man in such good spirits. Before, she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear his face crack when he attempted a smile, but after the days they’ve spent together she saw him do it more than once, with no visible discomfort! The cause of it was usually the same.

“You’re really into her,” she said softly, and watched him startle like a bat, throwing a glance to the cave’s entrance, then to her, then awkwardly turning his gaze to the flames. At that moment, he suddenly seemed far smaller than Nathyrra had ever seen him. Gone was the fearsome tiefling giant, the unshakeable general of the rebellion’s army, the Seer’s stalwart bodyguard. In front of the small campfire in the middle of the Underdark, there was only a man, troubled and lonely, as human as it gets.

After a few moments, he cleared his throat, and said in a perfectly controlled voice, “She has earned my respect and my admiration. She… has lent her skills to our cause time and again, I consider it only fair to support her in hers. Especially when her faith’s code coincides so conveniently with our mission.”

Nathyrra smiled to herself, but decided not to press him on it further. “Vanquishing all undead… I’ve heard of worse dogmas, for sure. She seemed quite put out when that enchanted mace rejected her, too. Would’ve been a perfect weapon for her.”

“True,” Valen agreed, sounding far more like himself now that the focus has shifted away from his feelings. “But it must go with its original owner, Lavoera. And the help of a celestial deva is quite a boon by itself.”

Nathyrra frowned, pausing her work on the dagger. “I wonder about that. Her… innocence is almost childlike, I have my doubts about exactly how helpful she would be.”

“She survived gruesome torture, and was ready to fight Vix’tra beside us. I believe that speaks to the strength of her character.” His tone softened then, just by a fraction. “We did a good thing by rescuing her, and the town. It was really… humane.”

Nathyrra was silent for a while, watching the flames dance off the gleaming dark surface of her blade. “I’m not sure if what we did for Drearing’s Deep was such a service,” she said at last. “They are alone now, unprotected from the dangers of the Underdark after the cult and its god are destroyed.” She heaved a small sigh, then put the dagger away. “But if they remain united and determined, perhaps they can survive… for a time.”

“You can be quite negative when you wish to,” Valen said from across the flames. There was no judgement in his voice, only a statement of a fact.

She smirked. “Look who’s talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daedre is a cleric of Kelemvor - god of the Dead, and battling undeath in all its forms is absolutely imperative to her. That's why she was upset when Lavoera's mace (enchanted against the undead) turned out to be restricted to the Outsiders.


	6. Lith My’athar, the eve of the Siege

On her way from the temple to the Maeviir inn, Nathyrra noticed Valen and Imloth at the captain’s post on the bank, and turned to approach them. Yet, just as she reached the post, she saw Imloth bow and depart, a stack of parchments in his hand, leaving her one-on-one with Valen.

“I’ve just been at the temple,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “During the prayer, the Seer’s had another vision. A vision of Daedre leading our troops against the Valsharess.”

“Did she see us winning too?”

“I believe that is implied, no?”

Valen shook his head. “I wish it was, but… Still, I have faith in our troops.”

“And our saviour?” Nathyrra smiled.

He remained serious. “And in her, yes. She has proven herself time and again, if anyone can help us achieve this victory, it’d be her.”

Nathyrra nodded, then cast her gaze over the black river. “The ‘negotiations’ with the illithids weren’t much of a success though,” she said.

“Creatures like that should be slaughtered, not bargained with.”

Nathyrra’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s exactly what she said to me earlier.”

“She did?” Valen asked, leaning slightly towards Nathyrra, then caught himself in the next moment, straightening back. “No matter. Giving them the Mirror would’ve been a grave mistake. Our immediate enemy would be eliminated, but the power it would give the illithids over the region, potentially over all of the Underdark…”

“Still, it means we’ll have to face the abominations in the upcoming battle,” Nathyrra frowned.

“Let them come, if they’re not afraid to suffer the fate of their Zorvak’Mur brethren,” Valen said with cold ferocity. “We’ll be ready for them, and we'll defy them, even if this proves to be our final stand.”

“It might, at that,” Nathyrra replied quietly, and let her gaze wander over the shadowed waters for a while. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Valen do the same.

The final hour was nearing. These might well be the last peaceful moments they share.

“Have you talked to Daedre already?” she asked, turning to look him in the eye.

“About what?”

A sly smile curled her lips. “What _is_ there to be discussed between a man and a woman on the eve of a great battle?” Confronted with Valen’s completely blank look, she sighed overdramatically. “Have you confessed your feelings to her?” _You sap_.

Valen took an unconscious step back, looking at Nathyrra as if she’d sprung horns. “My-- do not be ridiculous, Nathyrra. As if--” he stammered, then quickly clenched his teeth and turned away. He took a moment to compose himself, and when he turned back again, there was no trace of embarrassment on his features, save for a faint blush on the tips of his ears. “My feelings would only prove to be a distraction to her. Maybe…”

Nathyrra waited for him to go on, but after another moment it became apparent he wasn’t going to. He was looking at the ground instead, tail slowly swaying from side to side. Judging from the tenseness of his jaw, his teeth were still tightly clenched.

Nathyrra looked away. It wasn’t her place to advise anyone in romantic matters, and Valen’s notions of them seemed particularly incomprehensible to her. Perhaps it was for the best.

“It will all be over soon, one way or another,” she said, turning towards the inn once more, a playful smile on her lips. “And I’ll pray to Eilistraee for you, Valen. You’ll need it.”

* * *

On her way from the temple to the Maeviir inn, Nathyrra noticed Valen and Imloth at the captain’s post on the bank, and turned to approach them. Yet, just as she reached the post, she saw Imloth bow and depart, a stack of parchments in his hand, leaving her one-on-one with Valen.

The man raised his eyes at her, then looked away, face blank.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I see,” Nathyrra replied. “Well, I suppose you did make your position on the illithid question quite clear. I was surprised you didn't try to wrestle the Mirror out of Kade's hands.”

“I would have, if I thought it would do any good. If I thought you were on my side,” he added, lower.

Nathyrra clenched her teeth in frustration. “I’m on the side of the rebels and the Seer,” she said simply, unwilling to rehash the argument they’ve had too many times already. With a sigh, she turned her gaze to the river. “Did you hear, she's had another vision. A vision of Kade leading our troops against the Valsharess.”

“Did she see us winning too?”

“I believe that is implied, no?”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye, the rest of his face remaining still.

“No.”

Nathyrra closed her eyes. “The goddess would not abandon us.”

“A certain other might.”

She sighed again, bringing one hand up to rub at her temple. “Look, I won’t deny he’s not… the type of hero that you or the Seer want him to be,” she began slowly. “But he’s exactly the type that we need, and being pragmatic, ruthless and efficient does not make him a villain. I wish you would at least try to see it.”

“Oh, I see it. Ruthless and efficient,” Valen retorted, voice dripping with poison. “I imagine that’s exactly how the Valsharess describes her Red Sisters. Assassinating the victim in their sleep is no doubt considered ‘pragmatic’. In your mind, can you not easily imagine him among their ranks? By the pits of hell, he’d be right at home in the legions of the Abyss - no, worse - among the devils in the armies of Baator,” he practically growled.

“Oh, spare me…” Nathyrra rolled her eyes despite herself. “It all comes down to the devils with you.”

He finally turned to her, eyes aglow. “Not just me,” he said. “Or have you forgotten the Valsharess’s leashed archdevil? Imagine...” his voice faltered then, a spike of genuine anxiety seeping through the anger, “Imagine us getting through the Valsharess, us getting to _him_ , and him offering our brave saviour a choice - for his kind always does. Are you _certain_ he won’t find more kinship with the fiend over fair lady Eilistraee?”

Valen’s eyes were boring into hers, bright and harsh, and after a moment she turned away, shaking her head of the whirlwind of thoughts brought on by this line of reasoning, few of them comforting.

“What is the point of this question?” she said quietly. “The geas will--”

“Stop relying on the geas!” Valen snapped, then heaved a sigh and covered his face with his hand, struggling for control. When he raised his gaze to Nathyrra again, his face was tense and cold, voice lowered down to a harsh whisper: “I’ve talked to the Seer, she told me she can lift it. Could’ve done it all along, but didn’t, because even she understands its importance as a safeguard. And if _she_ can do it…”

The implication descended like a stone on Nathyrra’s soul.

“So can the Valsharess.”

Valen nodded. The tension seemed to leave his shoulders then, rage bleeding out of his stance, leaving nothing but tiredness behind. Across from him, Nathyrra tensed, eyes looking on without seeing as the full weight of what transpired set in her mind. Valen’s words raced inside her head, their truth scathing, but undeniable. Because, if she was truly honest with herself, hasn’t she noted Kade’s similarity to the Red Sisters too, but found it appealing rather than troubling? He reminded her so much of the “old” her, and it warmed her heart to confide in someone who understood her so utterly, who accepted her - all of her - for what she was, without outrage or judgement.

But there was a darker side to that parallel, one she didn’t really acknowledge - didn’t _want_ to acknowledge - before. The “old” Nathyrra chose to cast aside her weak, disadvantaged family and join the very enemy that destroyed it.

The “old” Nathyrra didn’t love anyone. Didn’t know how to.

“I hold out hope that he can still be swayed in our favour, that his… feelings for you might tie him to us, if nothing else…” Valen muttered, looking away. “With no offence meant to you though, that hope is slim.”

A spike of ice pierced Nathyrra’s heart. It couldn’t be true. Kade loved her, she knew it. She had to trust Kade, and trust Eilistraee, and not to succumb to this panic.

“It will all be over soon, one way or another,” Valen went on, even lower. “I recommend you pray to your goddess, Nathyrra. We’re all going to need it.”


	7. The Last Stand

_He stood there, amidst the smoke, the lone dark-haired figure of a man. He did it._

Nathyrra’s mind was still reeling when the temple’s heavy doors flew open with a bang, and Valen ran in, dark as a pit, with Sergeant Osyyr and a small squad of soldiers in tow. The tiefling’s eyes burned deep red, like smouldering coals.

“The gates are open!” he growled. “Kade sold us out!”

“No! It cannot be! The visions…” the Seer whispered, her hands shaking around her staff.

“Now’s not the time, you have to evacuate - _now!_ ” Valen cut her off, stepping closer. Behind him, through the gaping doorway of the temple, the shouting and the commotion of the troops grew louder with each moment. Their retreat from the gates couldn’t have won them more than a handful of minutes.

“How can I? No, this is the time I take the final stand with my people!”

 _And perish with them_. Already, the Valsharess’s army was descending upon Lith My’athar like a deathfog, leaving none standing in its wake. This was the end of the Rebellion.

“There’s no need for senseless heroics!” Valen barked. Still in a haze, Nathyrra barely registered the desperate harshness of his voice, or the glistening blood on his armor. “I’ve set it up with Sergeant Osyyr, he’ll take you and a small group of non-combatants and lead you to the Surface, while the rest of us will stay and hold off the enemy for as long as we can.” He glanced at Nathyrra briefly: “Nathyrra, join them and make sure they’re out safely.”

The Seer grabbed at his arm, pleading, “No, Valen, this is suicide, I can’t possibly--”

“ _Now_ , my lady!” he growled again, then motioned to Osyyr. “Take her away!”

Without a word, the Sergeant took the struggling, weeping Seer by the arms and dragged her towards the tunnel under the temple, while the rest of his squad rounded the children and the wounded and followed suit. Nathyrra watched them leave as if through a frosted glass, their cries and tears barely reaching her through the fuzzy numbness of her senses; inside, she felt nothing but cold, sharp and freezing, down to her very bones. _He did it_ , the cold buzzed through her frayed nerves. _He did it he did it he did it he_

“--yrra! Nathyrra!”

A hot flash of pain shot through her arm, turning her around. Valen’s face was a grim, gore-stained mask, sharp teeth bared, eyes glowing with hatred. For a moment, she thought he was going to kill her, then and there, and welcomed the thought.

But then the moment passed, and the haze dissipated, a spark of lightning searing through her whole body instead. She blinked rapidly, and made a short, sharp inhale.

“You’re a fool if you think I’ll let you sacrifice yourself here all by your lonesome,” she said, throwing off Valen’s vice-like grip on her arm. “It’s _my_ fault.”

“The fault is no more yours than mine, and I need you to ensure the safety of the Seer!”

“I will ensure it by not letting a single enemy soldier past me, and may Eilistraee take mercy on my soul,” she hissed, squaring her shoulders, boring into him with her black eyes. Her heart of ice pumped blood that boiled with guilt and pain.

Valen opened his mouth for another rebuke, when a low-pitched horn blared outside. “There’s no more time,” he muttered before running out of the temple, Nathyrra just behind him. The remains of their troops were gathered there, and a black mass slowly approached from the south-west. Nathyrra desperately searched the ranks of their enemies for Kade’s dark-haired figure. She wanted to see him. She wanted to make sure she’s the last thing _he_ sees.

“In position, everyone!” Valen roared, moving towards the frontline. “Mir dossta k’lar! Whol Faerz’un’arr!”

“Whol Faerz’un’arr!” the soldiers chanted in unison, the sound reverberating through Nathyrra’s bones. “Whol Faerz’un’arr!”

Valen stopped at the front of the formations, dauntless and unyielding, like a nose of a ship ready to cut through the oncoming wave. Yet, underneath it all, Nathyrra saw the same tiredness she felt in her own body. Same resignation to the end.

Now more than any other time, Nathyrra wanted to pray, but the words got stuck in her throat, lifeless, passionless. She cast a furtive glance at the man beside her, then turned back towards the nearing army, and assumed a battle stance.

Their last stand.

“I meant it, Valen,” she whispered, quiet and dull. “Forgive me.”

His reply was equally hollow. “You loved him.”

* * *

The Valsharess’ tower loomed over them in the darkness, but all their gazes were focused on a spot right in front of them, where Daedre stood just a moment ago, before vanishing in a ripple of magical energy.

“Gone? No! It cannot be!” the Seer whispered, her hands shaking around her staff.

“What kind of magic was that?” Nathyrra asked, frantically looking around for more surprises.

The Seer took a steadying breath. “That kind of power is beyond even the Valsharess,” she said grimly. “I sense a deeper malevolence in it.”

Valen’s expression was unreadable. “The archdevil.”

“It was a trap. We need to retreat, now,” Nathyrra urged.

“What?” Valen’s eyes snapped up at hers, full of outrage. “We can’t just leave her there, alone!”

The Seer stepped closer to him and put a comforting hand on his arm. “Oh, my dear child…” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

If the Valsharess commanded that kind of power...

Nathyrra saw Valen go still, and cast her eyes to the ground. “What can we even do for her now?” she muttered. “The Valsharess won't suffer her to live. By the time we cut through the tower's defences she... Valen, I’m--”

“Drewst dosstan!” A mighty roar bellowed across the air above them, and it took Nathyrra a moment to realize that it came from Valen. “Nin, riluss! Hurze, Imloth, Osyyr - doer nin!”

“A’dos quarth!” came from several points as the people he called hurried to his side.

“Valen...” Nathyrra tried, but he did not acknowledge her.

She studied him with worry. His face set like stone, eyes still glowing faint blue, but his movements were restless and jerky, and an edge of desperation coloured his voice.

“We’ve been led into a trap,” he began brusquely once all three men stood by him. “Sound the retreat, now, get everyone into formations. Our first priority is the evacuation of the Seer and the non-combatants, Nathyrra will take Osyyr’s squad and escort them straight to the Surface, no looking back.” He turned to her. “Take the route through Velve Colbauth, Osyyr will know the way from there.”

Nathyrra’s eyes widened. “No, I--”

“That’s an order, soldier,” he cut off with a scowl, then turned back to the others. “The rest of us will cover their escape and meet up with them later. Imloth, take squadrons Linoin to Werneth, Hurze - squadrons Trezen and Trez’nt. Move fast.”

“Izil dos orn,” Imloth bowed before heading out.

“Izil dos orn, Ul’Saruk,” Hurze followed.

“Osyyr, move out.”

The Sergeant bowed silently and rushed away to relay the news to his squad. Soon enough, the army started buzzing with motion and noise as the soldiers received their orders and prepared for the change in course.

The Seer looked over the bustling masses of her people with a mix of sorrow and pride. Many of them will lay down their lives here today, protecting the others’ escape, just like their brothers and sisters did earlier today, at the defence of Lith My’athar. But many more will live, and reach the coveted Surface thanks to their noble sacrifice. She gave a silent prayer to Eilistraee and hoped the number would be as high as possible.

She turned her gaze toward her general then. Under his stern and unyielding facade there was a heart that was breaking with loss. His road to peace was very long still.

“You save us yet again, my dear Valen,” she smiled and outstretched her arm towards him. Eyes still blank and dull, he came and lowered to his knees in front of her. She patted his hair with utmost gentleness and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Goddess be with you,” she whispered, “and we shall meet once more on the Surface.”

Slowly, he rose up, looking at the Seer with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Thank you for everything,” he said softly.

She wanted to say more to him, to get rid of the troubling finality of his words, but with the time working against them she settled for a smile and a quiet blessing. When she turned around, Sergeant Osyyr was already waiting for her, ready to escort her and the rest of the non-combatants away from the soon-to-be battlefield.

Nathyrra watched her disappear amidst the formations, heart filled with hope and apprehension at the thought of seeing the Surface for the first time. But she checked herself quickly - the path there would be long and dangerous, with no time to be wasted on daydreams, and she had to head out right away. 

Somewhere in the tower, heavy pipes boomed a low, ominous note. The rebels scrambled into positions, and Nathyrra knew her time here was over. She cast one last look over the men and women she came to consider _her_ people, and was about to turn around when a bright flash of red and green caught her sight amidst the sea of black and white. Valen was moving towards the frontline.

She quickly caught up with him, grabbed him by the arm and squeezed it with all her strength. He turned towards her, and almost made her take a step back - his was the face of a man unconcerned with survival.

“Promise me you’ll meet us on the Surface,” she implored him. “Promise me, Valen!”

The pipes released another gloomy note. The commotion intensified.

Valen didn’t look at her as he replied.

“I promise I won’t let them catch up with you,” he said simply, then turned to face the tower. 

Nathyrra couldn’t afford to wait for anything more than that. She released his arm and turned to leave herself. It was only after several rushed steps away that her keen ears caught a soft, hollow “I loved her.”


	8. The Gatehouse

The air rushed into Valen’s lungs in an icy torrent, a spark of lightning igniting in his heart and spreading down to the tiniest nerve. His skin was on fire, muscles rewiring themselves over bones that were still forming out of thin aether, dark blood flowing down half-corporeal veins; wild, uncontrollable agony screamed in his mind until the last hair fell into place and his body has finished reshaping itself with excruciating precision.

“Breathe! Just breathe now, okay?” someone urged from the fog that still clogged his senses, and he tried his best to follow the advice. Reining in his overwrought systems, he took a couple of deep steadying breaths, and opened his eyes.

Daedre was standing in front of him, just as she was mere hours before, in the shadow of the Valsharess’ tower.

“Daedre?” he asked, voice rough from the painful rawness of his throat. “What-- Where are we?”

“Daedre has requested your presence in Hell, fiendish one,” said the metallic voice to his right, and Valen flinched, only now noticing another person in the room with them.

The heavy robe and the massive wings scraping the floor - they were in Reaper’s gatehouse.

“It’s true,” Daedre nodded. “I… have asked Reaper to bring you back from the dead.”

Her brow was furrowed in a mute apology, but he had no need for it, happy in merely seeing her amongst the living. She wasn’t gone, wasn’t lost to him forever, and he had to consciously stifle the urge to step closer and wrap her in his embrace.

“You’re alive…” he couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad.”

Her own smile was tampered with bitterness. “I’m not sure you’ll remain so for much longer.” She sighed. “Forgive me, but I… I can’t do this alone.”

Worry quickly pushed the joy out of his heart.

“What have you gotten yourself into now, my lady?”

“Oh, Valen,” she sighed again, rubbing at her forehead. “I’ll tell you the long of it later if you wish, but the short is - as we have feared, the Valsharess’ leashed archdevil, Mephistopheles, was the real power source behind her campaign. After I’ve slain her, he freed himself, trapped me here in Cania, and is now having his merry fun conquering Toril.” She looked him in the eye, grave and resolute. “We have to find our way out of here and stop him.”

A subtle chill ran through Valen, his blood stirring at the mere thought of crossing a baatezu plane. This wasn’t going to end well.

He couldn’t let it show though. “Absolutely, my lady,” he nodded. “I… have seen him too. He came out on the battlefield himself after he… was done with you, I imagine. Followed by an army of ghosts.” He paused. “We were overwhelmed. My last memory is of his trident piercing my throat.” The thought jolted Valen like a thunderstrike, bringing with it a flash of phantom pain, the smell of blood and the stench of death. “What about the battle?” he urged, mentally kicking himself for taking so long to recollect the things that mattered most. “Have the rebels..?”

“They’re safe for now, as Reaper assures me,” Daedre quickly replied, raising one hand in a calming gesture. To her side, the mysterious gatekeeper bowed in silence. “The bulk of them survived; The Seer, Nathyrra, Imloth - Reaper couldn’t sense their souls anywhere in the Outer planes, which means they’re alive. And I would imagine they’ve you to thank for it,” she added with a smirk.

“I only sounded the retreat, their escape was their own doing. But it is heartening to know they survived.” He allowed himself a small smile at the thought of the Seer and Nathyrra escaping safely. To think, the days and weeks he spent doubting their every conviction, doubting Daedre, when she was every bit as special as the visions have promised… and more. “The visions… they’ve all proven to be true, haven’t they? And I was proven wrong once again.”

Daedre frowned then, suddenly uncomfortable. “Actually… the visions weren’t-- They weren’t sent by Eilistraee at all. They were all of Mephistopheles’ creation, a part of his plot to get to me. You… were right,” she said with some reluctance. Valen wouldn’t begrudge her a measure of bitterness over having some of her most cherished beliefs challenged like that, but the eyes she raised at him were bright and genuine, clear of any resentment. She smiled and continued, “Forgive us.”

Valen found himself at a loss for words, embarrassed in turn by her kind smile and open, guileless expression. Even in the antechamber of Hell, surrounded on all sides by darkness and death, she was radiantly beautiful.

The moment dragged on, the two of them holding each other’s gaze in a quiet reverie, until Daedre turned slowly away, her cheeks pink. Valen looked away too, clearing his throat.

“We should move out, my lady,” he said somewhat awkwardly. “If what you’re telling about Mephistopheles is true, we’ve not a moment to spare.”

She nodded, a little too fast. “Indeed. The less time we have to spend in this place the better.”

“Of course. Let’s go…” he gestured towards the mist-covered door in the far wall of the gatehouse and waited for her to take the lead. Mind wracked with foreboding, but heart warmed with hope, he gripped his weapon tighter and added in a low, breathy whisper, “... _my love._ ”

* * *

The agony of her body reforming itself ended as quickly and abruptly as it had begun, and Nathyrra has found herself stumbling and gasping for breath in a vaguely familiar place of blue stone and pale lights.

Someone’s hand steadied her, a voice calling out from the side.

“There, there, feeling okay now?”

“I-- I feel...” she muttered, shaking her head. “Where are we?”

“Kade has requested your presence in Hell, dark one,” said another voice. 

Nathyrra blinked several times, and once her vision had finally settled, took a look at the room they were in. The hooded outsider to her right was undoubtedly Reaper, which made some sense: she remembered meeting her end on the cold hard soil of Lith My’athar, and the Reaper’s relic must’ve somehow brought her to his gatehouse instead. But the man right in front of her...

“You!” she staggered. “How dare you--” 

“Once more into the breach, huh?” Kade smirked, and her blood boiled.

“You monster,” she snarled, hands reaching for her daggers. “You traitor! I should kill you where you stand!”

Kade’s brows shot up. “What for? Bringing you back from the dead? Giving you another chance at life, unburdened and unhindered by your rebellious ‘friends’?”

“For opening the gates of Lith My’athar and allowing the Valsharess’ forces to pour into the city unopposed!” Nathyrra cried, fervent and raw. “For betraying the rebellion! For betraying _me!_ You vile creature, they’re all dead! They’re all…” She stuttered, choking back the lump of tears and bile coming up her throat. “The Seer-- Oh goddess, the Seer…”

Kade shrugged at that, seemingly unmoved by her outburst. “She managed to escape actually. Isn’t it right, Reaper?”

The gatekeeper bowed. “I sense the soul of the one you call the Seer still tethered to her body.”

“See? Must’ve slithered away to some cave just as the fighting started, the old fool. The Valsharess was quite… incenced about that.” He smirked to himself, then turned his attention back to Nathyrra. “The rest are all dead though, it’s true. I _tried_ to tell the Valsharess’ men not to kill you, but those idiots don’t speak a word of Common. So sorry for that, my dear.” 

Strength was leaving Nathyrra rapidly, her mind in a haze. Leaden thoughts slowly tumbled inside her buzzing head - memories of tears and laughter, sense of purpose and belonging, sweet smell of incense, a flash of light in absolute darkness… And above it all - a pair of softly glowing blue eyes, ice-cold and scowling. Condemning.

“The geas…” Nathyrra mumbled, half-aware. “She removed it, didn’t she?”

Kade grinned broadly, showing off two rows of perfect teeth. “The moment I asked. Makes your Seer look rather pathetic by comparison, unless… Unless she could do it too, and lied to me about it.” He shook his head. “Not that it matters now. It all worked out in the end, don’t you agree?”

Nathyrra stared at him, eyes wide and unblinking, struggling to control her voice. “How can you say that? I... trusted you, I _loved_ you, I-- You killed them all…”

“Yes I did, and I’m only surprised _you_ didn’t do it sooner,” Kade frowned. “You were the only sensible person in that whole damn organization, and I’ve told you time and again the rebels stood _no_ chance at winning. Or did that religious swill genuinely seep through?” He grimaced in annoyance. “They reduced you to a _scout_ , Nathyrra, you whose skills and mastery can lead one to power beyond belief. Together, not even Mephistopheles can stop us.”

Nathyrra was clenching her teeth so hard it began to hurt.

“They were my people. My family.”

“They _used_ you, my dear, for them you were nothing but a finely sharpened, obedient tool,” Kade pressed, moving closer to her. “Do you truly think their paradise held a place for one of our sort? That a goddess of peace - let alone her Seer - would tolerate an assassin in her flock? How many times have you asked the Seer to take you to the Surface? How many times has she refused?”

“The war with the Valsharess took precedence. She would’ve taken me eventually.”

“Would she have? Or would there always have been another mission, another task, another tiny little thing that needed to be done down there, by you and you alone? Because they would’ve never accepted you for who you are.” His hard frown lessened then, and he outstretched a hand towards her face. “The way I accept you, my love,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

Nathyrra looked at him in silence. There was the handsome face of the man she fell in love with, his charming smile, his gentle hands, and bright eyes, filled with confidence and passion. Tall and exotic, with a sort of magnetic charisma, he attracted her senses in all possible ways. Her heart still stirred at the sight of him.

But her mind recoiled.

Because underneath this gilded mask, she realized now, there was nothing - a gaping, merciless void out to devour anyone foolish enough to come close. Why did it take her so long to see through it? Why did she let herself get fooled by empty platitudes and shallow affection?

She fell in love with a shade.

“Let’s go now,” Kade said, interpreting her long silence as a sign of forgiveness. “I’ll tell you the long of it on the way, but the short is - the Valsharess’ pet archdevil, Mephistopheles, has trapped us in Cania, and is now having the time of his life conquering Toril. I’m gonna need your help in putting him back in his place,” he smirked and took a step away from Nathyrra, beckoning her to follow. She didn’t move.

“I cannot go with you. Not after everything,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “I still-- I can’t.”

“Be reasonable. I can’t do it all alone, but neither can you,” Kade said, voice hardening. “We need each other to get out of here.”

“Who says I want to?” she asked, a tense, bitter smile crooking her lips. “Cania, you said? The Eighth Hell. Seems fitting for a sinner like me.”

Kade’s patience was wearing thin. “Do not be ridiculous, this isn’t a place for anybody! And don’t forget that while you’re _chilling_ down _here_ , up _there_ Mephistopheles is razing our home plane to the ground!” He scowled and stepped closer once again, looming over Nathyrra’s smaller form. “Your precious Seer has managed to survive, but for how much longer, with the archdevil on the loose?”

The Seer. The memory of her distraught mentor disappearing in the dark passages under Lith My’athar flashed before Nathyrra’s eyes, making her shudder. She was too grief-stricken before to realize the implications of the woman’s survival, but now it was hitting her like a ram, new strength filling her fraught body, a new drive forming in her weary soul.

Because if the Seer truly survived, there was still a chance. Not for Nathyrra, no, her redemption was forfeited the moment she put her trust into the vile backstabbing opportunist before her, but for others? For the cause of Eilistraee? As long as the Seer lived, Nathyrra’s own life still held some meaning, and she had no right to throw it away. Too many were lost already.

“You’re right,” she slowly nodded, trying to suppress the tremble in her voice. “You’re right. If I have a shred of duty left, it’s… Lead the way.”

The annoyance vanished from Kade’s face in an instant, replaced by a brilliant smile. He gave her a mock bow, gesturing towards the mist-covered door in the far wall of the gatehouse. “My lady.”

Nathyrra was about to walk towards it, but something still stopped her. A heavy, gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that she refused to acknowledge until now, but could no longer ignore.

“Wait, one… one last thing before we depart,” she said, turning to the gatekeeper. “Reaper… You said you felt the Seer’s soul, mine too, so I assume you can sense others as well. What became of…” She stalled, mouth dry, struggling to push the words out. Someone had to know. Someone had to remember. “Can you tell me how Valen Shadowbreath died?”

Reaper bowed, then raised his head, but a voice that replied to her came from a different direction.

“Oh, that’s simple enough,” Kade smirked. “I killed him. Barely a challenge actually - by the time I’ve reached him he’s repelled so many of the Valsharess’ soldiers he had trouble standing up. Cut his head off in one clean strike, which is more dignity than that mongrel deserved, but what can you do?” He gave Nathyrra a quick shrug, then frowned at her stunned expression. “Why the concern? From the way he talked to you, I wouldn’t think you’d give a damn whether he lived or died.”

It’s true, they didn’t get along. Most of their time together was spent in tense silence, rare conversations tended to end in arguments.

“I don’t,” Nathyrra muttered weakly. “Just curious. How the mongrel met his end.”

“A pointless death to match a pointless life,” Kade went on, seemingly unaware of her state. “The Valsharess’ Drow had all kinds of fun with the body afterwards, too. Didn't expect such base perversity from such an elegant race, I admit.” He chuckled to himself, as if at a funny memory, then sighed and turned to Nathyrra once more. “Is there some other fate you wish to enquire upon?” he asked. “The less time we have to spend in this place the better.”

It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would, but then, none of her feelings were particularly strong anymore. Cold numbness seized her mind and spread through her body, and she welcomed the comfort and the detachment it brought.

“Of course. Let’s go…” she nodded. Kade simply smiled at her again, and turned towards the mist-covered door. As he walked away, she felt her right hand twitch in the direction of his exposed back, his unprotected neck, the hilt of the dagger burning her palm. She could do it, easily. She _should_ do it.

For Imloth and Hurze, for Zesyyr and Rizolvir, for every wretched soul that clawed their way to the Seer’s rebellion in the hope of a better life. For Valen.

But not right now.

She needed him to get out of Cania, and so she would follow him, fight by his side, and protect him from danger. There was nowhere left to fall. To reach the Seer, she would follow him all the way back to Toril, and help him defeat Mephistopheles.

But after that...

A deadly calm settled in her battered heart, the eye of the storm. She gripped her weapons tighter and added in a harsh, dangerous whisper, “... _my love_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! I've taken some creative license with the Seer's survival and Nathyrra's post-betrayal resurrection (both of which aren't possible in-game), but I feel it's plausible enough. Now, whether Nathyrra sticks to her resolution of killing Kade after stopping Mephistopheles, or succumbs to the despair of Cania and joins Mephi instead... I'll leave it up to your imagination))
> 
> Anyway, I hope someone's managed to get a bit of enjoyment out of this whole thing) A special thank you goes out to Jorvach, whose comments made me feel a bit less like shouting into the void c:


End file.
